Reunion
by FadedPhoenixTrappedInThorns
Summary: The Mercenaries of Teufort haven't seen each other in 10 whole years. Now, as Miss Pauling arranges a celebration for the 10 year milestone, the mercs and their new lives are revealed. However, when Sniper discovers that Spy is in trouble and offers him a place to stay for a while he opens the door for trouble, perhaps more than he could handle.
1. Reunion!

The insistent ringing of a phone broke the silence of the night, only halted by a nimble hand picking up the ringing contraption and answering the call.

"Hallo?" The voice distinctly laced with a German accent replied calmly, it sounding almost groggy given the early hour it currently was. Bleary eyes shifted towards the clock, 3 AM. _3 AM._

 _"Klaus, it's Pauling."_ A female voice stated, as though that alone excused the early hour that this call was being made. _"I'm afraid i'm in need of your help..."_

* * *

10 years have passed since the worlds of all of the mercenaries of Teufort had aligned and acted as one, as a unit. War was over, and had been for 10 whole years, yet there was a clear shortage of contact between the now retired mercenaries. Reunions had been long rumoured, but none had ever gained any momentum and none, until now, had even reached the stage of being so close and so real.

However, after a few calls being made by the one and only Miss Pauling, a real reunion between all mercenaries that had fought in that war was so close that the purple-clad female could almost _taste_ it. It had been far too long, and with the help of two old mercenaries she had managed to get a hold of every other mercenary around and all of them had agreed to one big reunion. It was great news, and the reunion was only a couple hours away.

The clock softly ticked in the background as Miss Pauling began to shuffle through some paperwork, ensuring that everything she had noted down was going to plan in the order she had demanded. Where were the decorators of the small hall she had hired out? Where was those who had volunteered to provide food for the occasion? On such short notice she was aware things time wise may be a little tight, but she had no choice and had been working towards this reunion for months!

"What do I do? If those _decorators_ don't turn up then-oh and the _DJ,_ the Scouts had demanded there be one...and the _food!_ If the food isn't sorted then-"

Slowly, arms wrapped around the young female's waist and enveloped her in a warm embrace. Behind her stood Scoot, the once upon a time Scout clad in red. He placed his chin on her shoulder, chuckling a little in the tense female's ear.

"Darlin', will ya chill for just a little?" He hummed, rocking her a little and seeing her slightly relax. "Things're gonna turn out jus' fine, the guys'll show up and the only thing you gotta watch out for is anyone who decides to scrap for old times sake~" As if that made her feel better. Though, despite herself, the dark haired female gave a soft chuckle and shook her head.

"I have no time to 'chill', Scoot." She said firmly, "there's plenty of work to do, and _you're_ going to help me make sure this works out."

The sound of doors creaking open and heavy footsteps turned Pauling's attention away from the now pouting ex-Scout, and to the two figures standing in the once empty doorway.

"My apologies, are we perhaps interrupting something?" One of the figures asked, his voice laced with the same German accent as the one Pauling had heard on the phone. "We can always come back later-"

"No, Klaus, please do come in." She replied smoothly, lightly nudging Scoot with her elbow to force him to let go. "The reunion's not quite for another couple of hours-"

" _Da,_ we know." The second figure answered, stepping into the building and looking around with the slightest nod of his head. "We came to help you set up."

"Aw man, with big ol' Misha helpin' us we'll be done in no time!" Scoot laughed, jogging over to the large ex-Heavy weapons guy of the RED team and slapping his ex-team mate's outstretched hand. "And even the doc's here, fair 'nuff he's a BLU, but he's still worth somethin' to this 'operation' of yours, darlin'-"

A laugh erupted from the large burly Russian, squeezing the smaller ex-Scout's hand in his own and watching him wince a little in delight. " _Da,_ much quicker than if it were just you helping, little man."

Laughter followed from the small group and within moments Pauling had them organised to clean up the hall and get it ready for the reunion. She was determined to make sure this reunion was one that the ex-mercenaries of Teufort would never forget...and boy was she going to do so!

* * *

Meanwhile, in the pale glow of a northern bus station, stood Sniper Mick Mundy. His old hat was tipped slightly forward, shielding his eyes from the cars headlights as they drove past and prevented him from becoming slightly dazed. He was dressed remotely smart, a sight that would have been and has continued to be increasingly rare for the Australian sharp-shooter over the last 10 years and beyond. Black pressed slacks, a clean white shirt with the top two buttons undone, a somewhat darker version of the vest he used to wear as a mercenary over the top. Yes indeed, Mick Mundy looked rather sharply dressed, and boy was he regretting taking the bus.

"Should'a jus' walked.." He grumbled to himself as he kicked at a loose pebble on the ground, huffing as dark clouds shrouded the moon and it's illuminating light and causing the world to appear that little bit darker. "That or I should'a just headed out earlier..."

Sighing quietly, he tilted his head skywards and gave a soft hum of honest thought. It had been ten whole years since he had last seen the other mercenaries of Teufort, though it felt like only yesterday that they all had said goodbye. Mick had to be honest with himself, he would have thought that the others would have contacted him sooner and arranged a reunion before the ten year milestone. But, he reminded himself, they had lives of their own, all of them. While dwelling on that subject he wondered what his RED allies were doing with their lives, as well as his BLU acquaintances.

The squeaky wheels of a bus approaching brought Mick out of his thoughts, allowing him to dig a hand into those black slacks and grab at the loose change in his pocket. He was on his way, and as time went on he realized just how nervous he was.

* * *

"Got to hurry, the reunion's only an hour away."

Racing down one of the back alleys, Francois Renard gave soft pants as he spun around a corner towards his home. He'd gotten his invitation to the reunion of Teufort mercenaries surprisingly late, and thus was in a bit of a rush to make sure he looked...well, a lot more presentable than he did at that current moment in time.

Dusty blonde hair askew and sticking out at all sorts of ungodly angles, white shirt greying and dirty as well as a jacket torn at the bottom, his trousers were much in the same way and let us not even go on about his shoes. It was true, the once stylish and fashion-orientated ex-Spy of BLU was a mess that would have caused his past self to faint at the sheer sight of himself.

After a good ten minutes of running at top speed he finally burst through the door to his small apartment, slamming the door behind him and taking a second to catch his breath and in that small moment he caught his reflection in his gaze. His face was pale, dark circles around his steely grey eyes, less of a muscular build than the ten years ago when he was a rather dashing rogue (or so he dubbed himself despite the fact he hadn't much muscle back then).

"Ah...I have a lot of work to do if i'm to look _remotely_ presentable-" The ex-BLU scolded himself lightly, "well, better get started."

With that, he rushed into his room with the need for a good shower and a little bit of cosmetic to hide the darkness of his eyes.

* * *

Eventually, the time of the long awaited reunion came and Miss Pauling along with Klaus, Misha and Scoot waited with lumps caught in their throats out of pure excitement to see who would walk through the door first. What they didn't expect, however, was for the mercenaries to all come together and rush in all at once to catch the four by surprise.

They all stood together, RED and BLU, side-by-side, and all had massive smiles on their faces. From Pyro to Soldier, every mercenary gathered there was evidently excited much like children at the idea of seeing each other again. Brother and brother met once again, an example being Klaus who spotted his brother Kaiser amongst the crowd. Friends met friends, the RED ex-Soldier Byron and the BLU Engineer Dell instantly were slapping each other on the back and laughing madly.

"We have the Soldiers, Engie's, Heavy's, Medic's, Scout's, Demo-men, Pyro's and- only one Spy and one Sniper?" Miss Pauling counted, "we're missing two mercenaries?" Clicking her tongue, she glanced at the clock nervously before nudging Misha. "Misha, Francois and Mick _did_ say they were coming to this reunion, correct?"

" _Da,_ Miss Pauling." The Russian confirmed, glancing over the heads of the other mercs before pointing. "I think one of them has just arrived-"

Just as Misha said this, Mick stumbled through the door while shielding himself from the rain that had begun to fall outside.

"Holy-" The Australian could be heard saying in shock as he was steadied by Brent, the ex BLU Sniper. "'ello mates!" He called, being greeted with whoops and slight cheers. There was one thing he could say, and that was- "ah, today's a good day."

Just as the ex-RED stepped in, he was bumped into from behind and nearly knocked onto the floor by the sheer force of it. With a grunt, he turned his head to make a snide comment to whoever had rushed in before discovering he was face-to-face with someone he hadn't quite seen before.

"Watch where you're goin'!" He growled a little, upper lip curling a little in irritation as he stared down at the shorter and slightly jumpy male.

"My apologies, Sniper." The newcomer replied calmly, the smooth French accent washing over the Australian almost with nostalgia and it took only a couple of seconds to click.

" _Spook._ "


	2. A good ol' chinwag!

" _Spook._ "

That one word brought back so many memories of times gone by, presenting a sense of familiarity that the ex-BLU Spy had not initially intended to have this evening. Ah yes, the recollection of battles gone by where the Sniper and he would spar verbally as well as physically, exchanging the common adopted nicknames of _bushman_ and _spook_ as though they were truly their names came into memory of the short term. It was as easy as breathing for the pair to spar as they did, and even now, old routine had returned to the Frenchman _and_ Australian as though they had spoken only the day before.

" _Bushman,_ it's been some time, non?" With a small bow of pure mockery, the Spy cracked the sly smirk he had once been known for and his steely eyes glinted in the faded light, practically in delight, as a flash of brilliant white amidst tan skin presented Francois with the sight of the Sniper's own smirk. "You're looking as healthy as ever."

"Yeah, 'course I am, mate." Mick replied with a small click of his tongue, as though that was one of the dumbest things to say before remembering it was common manners and coughing, supposing he had to return the politeness. "And, uh, you're lookin' not too bad yourself...different, to what I remember."

Yes, different was a good word to use in regards to how the ex-Spy looked at that moment. Instead of seeing the famous balaclava on his face, the Sniper got a good look at what he truly looked like. Sandy blonde hair that was tied back in a messy sort of ponytail, slightly paled skin that looked rather porcelain under the faded lighting of the hall. In fact, a few faded freckles that you would not see from first glance were spread across the bridge of the ex-Spy's nose. In fact, Mick thought he'd seen those freckles every now and then during their close combat sessions. Furthermore, he had noticed that the ex-Spy was much _skinnier_ than before, and that concerned him slightly. The ex-BLU always used to insist (according to his brother, Brent) that everyone ate good meals and were healthy, almost to a level rivaling the Medic's with their need to keep people healthy.

"Well, there wasn't anyone who exactly saw _this_ side to me, not back in the old days. Hell, not a single person knew me by name."

It was true. All that time ago, the BLU Spy had been an enigma to every one on RED's team and even to an extent there were particular things that the BLU's didn't know about their French team mate. It's almost as though Francois didn't want anyone knowing about him, even his own colleagues. Then again, with the amount of switching around with mercenaries and their teams the Administrator always insisted upon it did make some sort of sense to keep at least some of your own personal life a secret. Heaven knows Mick had advised a fair few of the newer mercenaries on base towards the end of the war to keep their personal details under their belt- some paying heed and others not.

"So, what is it?"

"Come again?"

"Ya name, mate, what is it?"

"Oh, call me Francois."

It felt strange, for both of the ex-mercenaries, talking so freely even on the terms of peace and to be complimenting each other all for the sake of being polite. It was foreign on both of their tongues to talk so kindly to a person whom ten years ago they would have shot or stabbed without a second thought. Perhaps even now, if the offer was there, the pair would have taken up arms against each other and battled gloriously as they had oh so long ago. But alas, such fine times were not to be anymore.

"'ey mate, take a look a' what's goin' on over there-" Mick's voice suddenly piped up, directing the Frenchman's attention towards the sight of the ex-RED's Medic, Kaiser Kranken, and the ex-BLU's Sniper, Brent Mundy, standing nose to nose and looking very suspicious.

"If I know Kaiser and Brent as well as I do, I bet you that by the end of the night they'll be all over each other. God knows they were back in the day." Francois commented lightly as he turned to face the scene, a chuckle leaving him as he saw from the corner of his eye Mick looking utterly gobsmacked. "What?"

"You can't be serious? They were-?"

Laughing at the confused look on the Australian's face, Francois nodded to confirm his suspicions.

" _Crikey._ "

About to open his mouth to speak, Francois paused when a wave from his old team's Engineer, Dell, caught his attention. Turning to Mick once again and flashing a small smile, he excused himself and made his way over to the shorter male.

Now, during their little discussion over the two mercenaries that, surely enough, had gone to a dark corner where nobody wanted to even dare chance a look, Mick had noticed something _else_ about the ex-BLU that he hadn't spotted before and found strangely odd. It may have been a trick of the light, but Mick could have sworn he'd spotted dark circles around Francois' eyes that looked... he couldn't quite phrase it. Not as bad as a black eye, though perhaps the beginning stages of one.

"Ah, 't's probably nothin' but a trick o' the light." He mumbled, watching the old Spy with a slightly more critical eye than he would have liked to that evening.

* * *

The evening of the reunion had been one of the biggest successes Pauling had to admit she'd ever managed as regards the mercenaries. There had been a surprising lack of arguing, and a surprising amount of...Ahem...the purple clad female didn't even wish to know anymore.

Standing beside Scoot the ex-Scout, she gave a small smile of fondness at the sight of the mercenaries getting packed up and ready to either journey to the town's bars or to their separate (in most,but not all, cases) homes.

"See? I told ya today'd be just fine, didn't I, darlin'?" Scoot murmured into her ear, his smirk almost audible to the slightly shorter female. "Go on, tell me how right I am~"

"Don't push your luck, Scoot." Came her reply as dismissively as possible , given Scoots actual being correct for once.. "you know I can still knock you out within the space of seconds from where you stand right now." A beat. A shuffle of feet and Scoot was a couple more steps away. "Much better. Now, let's get packed up and go home."

* * *

"Wait, wait, so, you've been just outside of town all this time?" Francois laughed, apparently in a much better mood and much more comfortable than he had been at the beginning of the evening. "Are you serious?"

"Yeh, if ya wanna call it tha'." Mick nodded, rubbing the back of his neck while the pair stood outside of the little rented hall. "I gotta lil' ranch a couple miles out of the way of anyplace. Nice lil' place, got a few livestock 'n' things, just 'nuff to be able to keep m'self goin' anyways."

"Sounds nice," Francois offered a polite smile, knowing that the sound of ranch life was definitely something that wasn't for him. "Then again, you've always enjoyed that sort of life, haven't you?" Giving a chuckle, he ran a hand over his face and unknowingly wiped off some of the cosmetic he had applied before coming along to the reunion.

"Yea', that sorta life's always been the thing for me. Anyways, 'nuff 'bout me, what 'bout you...? You haven't been sleeping much, eh? Your eyes look a bit tired and baggy and we all know tha' ya always hated the idea of tired eyes. What's the score, mate? C'mon, fill me in." Mick finally blurted out what had been on his mind, the accidental removal of the cosmetic that had revealed the darkness of the other male's eyes and had caused a level of rise within the ex-RED to grow.

Francois raised an eyebrow at Mick's sudden change of subject, stammering over his words for a moment and trying to recollect his suddenly scattered thoughts. Glancing down at his sleeve, his steely eyes narrowed at the sight of the cosmetic on his sleeve.

" _Merde..._ yes, I suppose you could say I've been _tired_ as of late." The Frenchman admitted and gave a soft sigh as though to prove his point. "I have a big, bright light that shines through my bedroom window most nights. Naturally, that keeps me awake and-"

"Look mate, I weren't born yesterday. I've known ya for how many years now? You really think that sorta crap's gonna work on me?"

The silence which followed confirmed the ex-RED's suspicions, causing a small growling noise to leave him before a snap of fingers caught his attention and a grin lit up Mick's face.

"Ya know what, mate? I have a proposal for ya."

"Oh, and what is _that_?"

"Well, ya come and stay over mine for a while. Just 'till those rings 'round your eyes fade completely and ya look less like a bag o' bones." The look of disapproval on the ex-Spy's face only encouraged Mick that little bit more. "C'mon, even if it's just for a week?"

After a short while of mental debate, Francois gave a rather frustrated sigh and clicked his tongue to show his irritation at the Sniper. "Mm...well...alright then, one week it is."

"Good on ya, mate. C'mon, le's go get your stuff."

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, I know i'm quite out of character in this chapter and things but I hope it's good enough. Can I just say a big thanks to those who have reviewed, fav'd and follow'd? I hadn't expected this sort of audience at all, so thank you!**

 **Until the next chapter!**


	3. Pack yer bags, yer comin' with me!

The drive over to Francois' apartment was a quiet one...too quiet. There was a general uneasiness omnipresent in the car, at least , from the direction of Francois. The more Mick tried to begin a conversation or throw in a memory that the both normally would deem fond, the shorter the answers coming back became and the more Francois wriggled relentlessly in his chair. The Sniper began to feel that what he was about to see wasn't going to be pretty, far from it, in fact. It was hard for him to separate a realistic expectation from downright bedlam, and perhaps that was the most frightening part of their journey. That or the distant look in the ex-Spy's eye as he drove.

Suddenly, the car pulled up to the outside of a block of flats overshadowed by tall buildings that appeared to be abandoned long ago. It was a generally gloomy image that Mick just couldn't quite picture Francois returning to every single day. Something just didn't appear to sit right.

"So...we're here." Francois said slowly, looking towards Mick with an expression that could be compared to a child about to show off a school project that they knew they would be in trouble for due to a lack of effort. "A real 'beauty', right?"

The sad thing was that Mick couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

"Well, come along. You'll have to wait outside while I get my things, I shouldn't take too long."

Raising an eyebrow as Francois hopped out the car and walked briskly towards the block of flats, Mick took a second before swiftly following him. At first, the idea that Francois had requested he not go into the flat wasn't suspicious at all. Nothing had given the Sniper any sort of clue as to what was awaiting the pair as they walked into the block of flats, the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke causing the Australian to wrinkle his nose for a split second. The walls were stained with god knows what, and every door to each flat was either stained with the same substance or had paint peeling from it.

"Yea, a real beaut', mate." Mick echoed the Frenchman's earlier words with a raised eyebrow, turning his ocean blue eyes towards said Frenchman with almost a questioning expression to only see the other keeping as expressionless as possible.

"We're here." Came the reply minutes later when nothing but silence had filled the halls after the Sniper's almost sarcastic comment. They stood before a door with the strange substance staining the corners, as well as peeling paint near the top. "You wait here, alright? Then, we can travel to your ranch tonight."

With that, he whipped out a set of keys and swiftly unlocked the door in order to push inside. At first, he struggled with said door, grumbling in irritation as it would have appeared to have jammed while he had been absent from the flat.

" _Merde_ , I can't call the janitor up here again, I bother him a little _too_ much in regards to this bloody thing. He always tells me he'll get this door fixed and never does..." Francois complained quietly, cheeks warming and becoming a light rose colour in embarrassment as he barged his shoulder against the stubborn wood. "Move, damn you!"

"'ere mate, lemme try." Mick offered, gesturing with a hand for the other to stand aside. Upon seeing him nod and shift nervously to the right of the door, the Australian bowed his head and looked at the door in particular caution before jerking forward and allowing his boot to make contact with the door resulting in a thunderous banging that echoed around the whole block of flats. Nothing, and so he did it again. A beat, nothing changed. "Stubborn little-" the Australian snarled under his breath, taking a step back before delivering yet another powerful kick to the door-this time it giving way beneath his foot and causing him to stumble harshly into the flat with a small yelp of surprise.

"Mick? Are you alright!?" Francois called from behind him, slipping through the door to see the Sniper had tumbled head first into one of the many black bin liners that filled the little flat. "Did you land on anything sharp? Did you hurt yourself?"

"Ah, shaddup, i'm fi-" The Sniper groaned from where he'd fallen, raising his head and pausing at the sight of black bin liners _everywhere._ "What the-"

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Mundy."

"What the hell d'ya mean welcome to your home? This is hardly a home, mate, and I do hate to say that." Mick stared at the ex-BLU with raised eyebrows, "why the hell d'ya live like this, Spy?" he asked, getting a scolding look from the ex-BLU in return that was almost as though he wasn't being taken seriously. "From what i'd heard, you never were like _this_?!"

"Mick, for the last time this evening, I told you to call me by the name Francois." Waggling his finger a little, Francois edged through the mess of his flat towards the kitchen. "Since you're here, would you like a coffee? Tea?"

"Stop avoidin' the subject." The Sniper shot back rather sharply, following him towards the kitchen while nearly tripping over some bags on the way and stumbling into the kitchen counter. "I'm not fallin' for that one."

"Stop being so persistent," the Frenchman replied, sounding perhaps a little bit more sharp than he had meant to, "it's none of your concern. Let's just have this coffee, i'll grab my things and i'll stay at your ranch for the week."

"A week? Na, mate, after seein' this i've decided you're staying longer at the ranch."

"Come again?!" Francois stared at Mick with mouth hanging open, unable to quite comprehend why the Sniper was all of a sudden so insistent. Did he really not understand that the ex-Spy didn't care about his flat in all reality?

"Mate, i'm gonna be frank with ya, you're a mess." The Australian said in the most serious tone he could muster, riling up the Frenchman extremely in the process, and tipping his hat over his eyes. "You're flat looks a bloody tip, and you don't give a shit. You live in a block o' flats that look like and smells like the Scout's have come 'ere with Brent and pissed everywhere. You also look like crap, your eyes look as though you've been punched by Misha or someone. This isn't you, this isn't what the Spy I knew was like-"

"Mick, i'm going to be frank with you," The Frenchman imitated the other's tone, eyes narrowing and brow creasing in a slightly higher level of irritation, "i'm not the _Spy_ anymore, am I? My name is Francois Renard, a Frenchman living in a place that could be mistaken for a criminal hideout and raided at any time. The reason I haven't taken any of these bags out or unpacked is because I travel, don't get the wrong idea by what you see around you."

"Look, i'm not _trying_ to be rude. All i'm sayin' is come stay with me a couple o' weeks instead of the one, just to take a break from this place, yeh?" Giving a hopeful expression, Mick didn't back down and, as he saw Francois hesitate, he knew he was winning this argument. "C'mon, a couple weeks won't kill anyone, will it?"

The Frenchman stared at the Australian in silence for a good couple of minutes, the only sound occupying the silence being the quiet whistle of the kettle, coupled with the roaring jets of gas fuelled fire, heating its contents... A good, old fashioned, kettle in an old fashioned apartment. His steely eyes moved away from oceanic blue and towards the piles of bags that made the flat feel ever so much smaller. As it was true that a couple of weeks out of town _would_ be a positive change of pace, it was more a question of would anyone...well...the ex-BLU refused to think further on that point lest he completely refuse the Sniper's offer after all.

"...Allow me to gather my things, and i'll come with you to the ranch. We'll discuss how long I stay with you on the way, is that a fair offer?"

Upon suggesting this offer, Francois shifted a bit and attempted to get past Sniper, in order to get to his room. Unfortunately, he had to press himself against the other to squeeze passed, a mumble of an apology leaving both of them in unison and causing the situation to become somewhat more humour filled rather than awkward and the pair began to laugh softly at each other's expression. Eventually, the ex-Spy moved and shuffled out of the room leaving the ex-RED in a fit of giggles.

"Alrigh', a fair deal." He mumbled all too late, giving a soft sigh and shaking his head with a rather silly smile on his face. Perhaps things will be fine, once Francois was away from his home and was much more relaxed.

* * *

"Mick! You get back here _now_!" Francois called as he raced down the stairs of the block of flats, face red with the effort of running at full pelt after such a long time.

"Oh, come _on_! We're going to the same bloody location! How about, _you_ bloody hurry up?!" Mick called from the bottom of the stairs, looking upward with that typical grin on his face he had been known for ten years ago. In his hands, he held two of Francois' bags, having offered to carry the rather bulging bits of 'luggage' and running off with them before the ex-BLU could say no. "So, you comin'? Or, am I stealin' your stuff and going back to the ranch on my own?"

" _Non_! Wait for me!" Francois shrieked, jumping down flights of stairs now until finally he landed on the bottom level and crashed into the Australian. The pair of them stumbled, and Mick dropped the bags he had been carrying to catch the Frenchman as swiftly as he could manage without falling over himself.

"Eager, much?" He teased, eyes twinkling with amusement before he motioned for the Frenchman to follow him. "C'mon, mate, the ranch awaits."


	4. C'mon Spook, meet the crew!

The drive out of town wasn't exactly long, but the journey from the outskirts of town to Mick's ranch was certainly a trek and a half. Luckily, Mick had offered to drive, seeing as he knew the way and it therefore allowed Francois to get some well needed rest while sat in the passenger seat. The Australian had noticed just how tired the other looked, and despite the fact Francois hadn't given him much reason as to why he was so tired, he could well imagine that something was troubling the other. Mick,in all honesty,wanted to know what it was exactly that was bothering the Frenchman, but that sort of chat and its prying type of nature could wait for a while until he was in a much better state than he was currently.

The roads to the ranch were not great. Potholes a plenty and it was _dusty_...as dusty as they come in fact. Mick tried to manoeuvre the car around the holes as expertly as he could, but, surely enough, he hit a big one and the car took a big side swipe to the left

"Eh, wha', what the..?!" Francois was awoken with a jolt, his head bashing against the window to his side harshly, followed by a whiplash inducing lurch backwards. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

"Take it easy mate, it was jus' a pot hole, it's riddled with them out here. It's like being back in the outback, but of course, it's jus' government cutbacks-"

"Oui, oui, lets not get all political, Mick. I've only just woken up-!"

A chuckle left the Australian sharp-shooter as he listened to his friend grumble in complaint at the sudden rousing from his slumber, deciding to quickly pull over to the left of the dusty road to just double check that sudden jerk hadn't damaged him at all. Quickly parking, he turned in his seat and his chuckling became a little belt of laughter due to the sight of the Frenchman.

Francois was currently hunched over in his seat, rubbing the back of his currently sore neck. His sandy hair was currently dishevelled and creating a shadow over those steely grey eyes that were currently narrowed in Mick's direction and glinting almost in the light. The Australian had seen that glint before, many _many_ years ago, and it brought a smirk to his face.

"If I didn't know ya betta, mate, i'd think you'd be plottin' my assassination right now."

A surprised look crossed the ex-Spy's face before an almost soft smile followed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. Soon enough, the Australian was giving a slightly deeper version of the same chuckle. The pair continued like this for a while, laughing softly to themselves and almost over nothing. Oceanic eyes looked at steely ones, both pairs glittering with fun and amusement, and they both slowly fell into almost a sense of stupor. They stared, sharing goofy little grins until eventually Mick looked away, deciding it would be best for the pair to continue on their way.

"Well, it'd appear ya neck ain't broken, so, le's go, alrigh'?" He asked, grinning a little bit lopsidedly now as he received a small hum in response from the Frenchman.

"Oui, let us go."

* * *

Eventually, the ranch became visible to the now quiet duo. By becoming visible, it was more Mick began to get restless in his seat and excitable.

"'ere she is, mate, 'ere she is!"

Francois opened a lazy eye and gave a soft hum, taking a second to register what Mick actually meant by saying 'here _she_ is'. The sight that met him, much to his own surprise, took his breath away.

All in all, it was visible from the entrance that the ranch included a ranch house, a bunkhouse which suggested to the Frenchman it was not just the sharp-shooter who lived and worked here, a large auburn shaded barn, and a harness-room off the barn towards the back almost tucked away out of sight. In the surrounding land, it was fields, and only then did it click for Francois that they had been driving along the roads surrounding _Mick's_ land up until now. Trees multicoloured several shades of browns, oranges and almost yellows surrounded each field reflecting the autumn weather, almost as though it were separating the ranch from the surrounding world with a whirlwind of colour.

"Bushman... it's..."

"A real beaut', ain't she? Cost me most of me earnin's from the war, but she was worth it." Mick's voice was filled with pride, and the ex-BLU certainly could see why. He was right, the ranch _was_ beautiful, a lovely place to enjoy the retirement that the Australian had well earned during his service.

"How on earth have you maintained this place so well? If I remember correctly from the stories, you were _awful_ at keeping your own van clean and organised, let alone a ranch!"

A sheepish look crossed Mick's face as he drove the car towards the ranch house, parking up and sitting in the car for a moment while scanning the surrounding area.

"Yeh, I know, but ya could say i've had a bit o' help."

As though on cue, out of the ranch house and the bunkhouse came five figures who stalked towards the car as though it were prey about to be pounced on by a bunch of wild animals. The sight unnerved Francois, but Mick simply chuckled and opened the door.

"'ello, mates, sorry I took so-"

Before Mick could continue with what he was saying, two of the figures jumped at him at such an alarming rate Francois was ready to jump out of the car and go to the Australian's aid. That was when he saw that the two figures weren't _attacking_ Mick, but rather were tackling him in a form of embrace. Though, perhaps this was just Francois being paranoid, it almost looked passive aggressive. Taking a sharp intake of breath, the Frenchman slowly clambered out of the car and was surprised to hear the sound of laughter reach his ears.

"You _ass,_ you took off without warning and roll up the next day expecting us to just welcome you back with open arms?!" One of the figures who had jumped at the Australian barked, English accent rolling off of their tongue with a distinctly feminine tone to it.

"Yea, Mick, jesus _christ_! A lil' warning would have been nice!" The other figure who had jumped at Mick growled, an American accent lacing their words, an eye twitching a little bit in irritation as they whacked the back of his head lightly. "You had all o' us worried!"

Mick just laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck before wrapping an arm around the two feminine forms clinging to him, turning to the thoroughly confused Frenchman and giving a bark of laughter at his expression.

"Listen 'ere you lot, this 'ere is Francois, aka 'Spook', an ol' mate o' mine." The Australian explained as the remaining figures surrounded Mick like three massive bodyguards-it painstakingly obvious to Francois they were male and _very_ strong looking. "Spook, I wanna introduce ya tah ma 'crew'." With a whistle, the five members of Mick's 'crew' stood in a line with mock salutes, all of this appearing a game to them as Mick approached the rather dumbstruck Francois.

"This big bloke 'ere is Jarrod, ev'ybody round 'ere calls him Jett though-" Mick explained, referring to the first one in line.

'Jett' was a large male with a wide build almost similar to Misha's, standing at 6"6, though perhaps a little bit more skinny than the Russian heavy weapons specialist. He had amber eyes that looked almost golden in the early morning light, a large nose that was rather distinctive, and rather full lips. His hair, much like his name would suggest, was a jet black. Offering a bear like paw out to the Frenchman, he shook his hand (almost crushing it in the process) and offered a polite smile.

"An' this lil' shortie is Robbie, though he insists on bein' called Mordikai."

A lot of curses from the 'shortie' that was Robbie followed, this friend of Mick's standing at about 5"1 certainly appeared much more aggressive than the gentle giant standing beside him. With emerald eyes that were currently narrowed, and a lighter shade of blonde for hair than Francois. Folding his arms over his chest, he gave a nod in the ex-Spy's direction and half scoffed in response.

"An' this is-oof!" Mick once again was dragged into an embrace, chuckling a little bit at the female who stood that little bit taller than him at 6"1. "This is Haylee, though call 'er Zowie."

'Zowie', or Haylee, smiled widely at Francois and surprised him by grasping his hand and shaking it with a surprising amount of energy and strength. Her cobalt eyes shone in delight upon meeting someone new, lips moving about and blabbering all sorts that the Frenchman just couldn't catch on to. It was clear she was the one with the English accent from earlier. Her hazel hair was currently thrown back into a rather lazy attempt of a ponytail, and she gave a sort of aura that made her almost mistakable to be related to Mick.

"'ere is Moe, no nickname for this one, just plain ol' Moe." The Australian teased, winding up the remaining male worker who just stood with a rather passive expression.

"Yea yea, Mick, plain ol' me." Moe retorted, rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue before smiling at the Frenchman. He stood about 5"10, with dark brown hair and matching dark brown eyes. He certainly looked like a regular Joe, well, he could be called a regular _Moe_ after all.

" _What_ about _me,_ Mookie boy?!" The final remaining member of the group piped up, American accent strong, as she clung to the side of Jet. "You really forgot about me?!"

"'course not, Janine, gimme a chance for cryin' out loud." Mick teased a bit before being interrupted.

"Oh who needs ya, Mook, anyways-" The female, Janine, rolled her eyes and flashed a rather pretty smile at Francois. "I'm Janine, though you can call me Jan, sweetie." Like Jet, she had black hair which was currently up in a rather neat bun- quite the comparison to Haylee. Her piercing grey eyes matched Francois' own rather well, able to demand and capture anyone's attention rather easily.

"A pleasure to meet you all," Francois gave a soft smile and gave a polite bow of his head, earning giggles from the girls and polite nods in return from the males. "I'm sure i'll enjoy my visit here."

"Heh, c'mon Spook, i'm gonna leave ya in the hands with these fine people." Mick winked, earning a look of sheer terror from the other. "Don' worry, i'm jus' gonna be puttin' your stuff in ya room, i'll catch up with ya when i'm done, 'kay?"

Looking rather nervous but keeping a brave face, the ex-BLU gave a nod and smiled a little bit with a nod. "Alright, I suppose i'll see you shortly."

With that, both Haylee and Janine took a hold of one of his arms and began to tug him towards the barn.

"C'mon, 'Spook', we got a lotta groun' to cover today!"

Well, if there was one thing Francois had to say, at least he wouldn't get _bored_ here.

* * *

 **A quick Author's note: A big thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story. You guys have no idea how much it means to me to be getting the feedback to the extent I have. Special mentions go to 2Due and Vincent- Vladmir who have given wonderful feedback through reviews and PM. Thank you guys!**

 **Okay, this chapter is my longest one yet, and I have to admit it has given me the most trouble so far. But, I am glad that i've managed to get on track with my plans with the fanfiction and haven't dawdled too much. I hope you guys enjoy, and I hope you don't mind there are a few ocs thrown into the mix. These characters _are_ important for future chapters, I assure you, and so the development was kind of required. **

**Anyways, thank you again guys for reading! And I will see you in the next chapter! Goodbye!**


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